New Year's Resolutions

"New Year's Resolutions"
by America

AN EXCERPT:
Resolution #11: Exercise more.

Resolution #12: Jumpstart economy.

Resolution #13: Get housing market on track.

Resolution #14: Get out of Iraq.

Resolution #15: Put an end to Spencer Pratt.

I'm A Man

"I'm A Man (and other not-so-shocking truths)"

by Brooke Hogan

.

AN EXCERPT:

I'm dumber than shit.

Come Home With Me

"Come Home With Me: Spending A Season With My Family And Other Suicide Missions"
by Katy French

BOOK SLEEVE EXCERPT:
So after the Christmas tree and the cats caught fire, the kids ran around screaming with smoked presents in their hands, thinking they were glued as gift-wrapped. The turkey had been thrown out the window when Uncle Eddie yelled at Aunt Mara for letting the kids smoke in the house, though it was Uncle Eddie that had started the fire with his "magic" (lighter fluid, old saloon cards and a top hat that went all wrong). My mother was swimming in scotch and my father was light as a feather (and as high as one, shooting off toy guns at the neighbors, though they weren't aware they were playing "War"). Cousin Arch was sipping on water he found in the radiator. Marco Marcowiz was playing a Halloween song on the trumpet he got for Easter. Disastrous Diana, our most oddball second cousin, was on the roof with fireworks and Jimmy, the local boy she loved. Kevin had already fallen off the roof and not moved off the front lawn since Grandma Crans gave him a bottle of vodka to waste away the pain. Grandpa Sceers had fallen asleep on the dining room table. And there were 16 more guests.

All while I was having the cigarette of my life on the porch, watching the cops roll up.

One Last Victory

"One Last Victory"

poems

by Jake Kilroy

AN EXCERPT:
"Churchfire"
finally...by jake kilroy.

After the long nights of warfare in bedrooms and cafes,

and the short years of peace we had during nights on the town,

the moon went down for a nap and the sun swallowed some pills.

I know you always liked sporadic poems,

filled with descriptions and ongoing sentences,
without rhymes or reason,
filled to the brim with cheap shots of beauty and spaz junk slang.
But you chose the weapons,
you compared us to the Cold War,
you left the salute for a new god,
and you left the love letters for the dead poets we glorified,
back when my mailbox was filling up with wonder,

and nothing from you.

I checked every day, and never a thing of praise or libel.

But I fell asleep in my kitchen, waiting,

clinking glasses with my greatest of doubts,
marching on, tearing down every beautiful thing for your church,
painting new martyrs and humming new hymns,
I fucked in your temple, just to watch it burn, so sing now!
Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing!

I wish the megaphones were on!
I wish the speakers were taped with explosives!
I wish I could finally say something grand without swearing!
I wish this drink would kill me before the stage does!

Oh, dearest memory of olde, they're playing your song again,

and I finally know the words, I've finally got the fire,
I've finally got the plank for you to walk to cool off.

But this dance is never-ending, so you best get your best shoes,
your best outfit, your best gentleman caller or ladyfriend,

because the only bell that'll sound this season
is the alarm that comes when there's a prison break,
somewhere in the catacombs of your heart.

So when the heat dies down, and you're still drinking martinis,
on ice, shaken and stirred and any other movement coming,
you'll be sweating bullets, popping the floor like firecrackers,
as your feet move swiftly in good shoes back to New York City,
back to New Orleans, back to Chicago, back to Los Angeles,
back to the beach where we first saw new stars,
because so help me on the new holiday weekend,
I may be drunk in a church, but I'll still know the gospel.

And just so you know, I wrote the fucking masterpiece.

Merry Christmas To All!

"Merry Christmas To All!"
by George Bailey & Friends

AN EXCERPT:
Merry Christmas, movie house! Merry Christmas, Emporium! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan! Merry Christmas, other various 1940s establishments that no longer exist! Merry Christmas!

How We Saved Christmas!

"How We Saved Christmas!"
by Kevin Manahan & Eyvette Min

TAGLINE: Two kids. One divorce. Hundreds of hilarious antics! It's like Parent Trap. Except with adopted ethnic kids instead of two bratty white girl twins!

Clearly, I Am So Detached, Moody, Puzzled (And Your Children Probably Like Me More Than You These Days)

"Clearly, I Am So Detached, Moody, Puzzled (And Your Children Probably Like Me More Than You These Days)"
by Kristen Stewart

BACK COVER:
Did you like...see me...in Twilight? Remember all those times I just couldn't freakin' believe that Edward was a vampire and I would like...go into convulsions because I was just so confused? Remember when I said that I would totally, like...miss the heat in Arizona? It was like...in the first five minutes, but be honest...you were hooked. You believed that I would totally miss that heat. And remember how I took it all in so magically and beautifully, like I was amazing...? Cool. Read my book.

Party In Pairs (With Class)

"Party In Pairs (With Class)"
by Mallory Larsen

BACK COVER:
Who's going to hold your drink when you kiss or fight someone? Who's going to smash things with you when you say the party sucks (after you've been asked several times to leave)? Who's going to steal stuff from the party you just had to leave? Who's going to hail a cab by flashing it down instead of flagging? Who's going to take you to your bed and either go saint or sinner on your ass (literally)? Who's going to buy you breakfast the next morning, saying that you totally wanted it and "taking advantage" is libel?

Well, I don't know. I'm a book. But I bet someone is!

Situations where this book may help:

- An ex just showed up to the same party as you with a date, and you can't find your switchblade, so you make your friend look so good, your ex kills his or herself on the dance floor with a dirty knife he or she found in the sink.

- A circus where the ringleader asks for two volunteers and you don't want to work with an audience clown or real clown, because, well, screw clowns .

- Some board games suggests you need a partner and you'd rather have sex with a handle of vodka before you force yourself into a threeway.

- You chose a song at the bar and some bitch changes it. You gotta punch some lessons. Who's gonna hold those arms while you dump a something-tonic all over their face, yelling racial slurs that don't make sense, like "lagibaloo!"

- You want to get down.

One-Sided Phone Conversations, Volume One

"One-Sided Phone Conversations, Volume One"
by Jake Kilroy

AN EXCERPT:
"A White Girl, An Asian and Star Wars"

No, dude, you're never going to believe it...

Yep.

Yeah, with two girls!

No way. She could easily slip out of handcuffs.

Well, yeah, she's Asian, dude. She weighs, like, 40 pounds. I could probably throw her over my house. I wouldn't though, because that's racist.

I don't know, man. I guess 40 pounds is a lot, but let's just say I'm really determined to do it.

Yeah.

Ok, look, we both know that I failed physics. I just think that I could toss her over. Or at least make it happen with a running start.

Yeah right, the taller one's white. Really nice body though.

I don't know. But get this...I think her dad's in the mafia.

Hmmm...should I?

He wouldn't shoot me for that. I'm totally being good to his daughter.

But I took her out for dinner first. Doesn't matter what happens later, right? I earned it.

Well, yeah, but we were role-playing at the time.

Tarzan and a sexy cop doesn't even make sense. You're combining roles, dude.

What?

No, that's stupid. That's like...really stupid. Why would a firefighter be with Jane? You're switching everything around now. He's a hot city boy and she's trapped in the jungle.

Why the hell would he rescue her in the first place? Are there house fires in the jungle?

Well, it's not helping. You're just throwing out any combination of roles that pop into your head.

No, you're yelling.

Sure.

Yeah, but it's not sexy if it makes no sense. Princess Leia doesn't even know what a Catholic school girl is. Why would they be hanging out anyway? And then who would I be? Would Luke Skywalker be messing with a school girl's innocence? No way. I'm a goddamn Jedi Master. I wouldn't do that.

I don't know. Jedi's the only religion I know of in the Star Wars universe. Shoot, you'd think that God would've been there a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Wow. Hmmm...maybe George Lucas was telling us all something.

Ok, yeah, Jar Jar Binks would be the Anti-Christ. For sure.

Well, yeah, as Han Solo, you would just have to wear the vest and blaster.

Yeah, but her hair wasn't really all that sexy in the first one. And he was frozen in the third one.

No, I don't want to be them at the end. There's no passion or tension at the end of a trilogy. What about that part where they hook up on the ship? It's kind of boring, but it's something.

That's gross. Don't compare that to the Sarrlac Pit.

Why I Haven't Cared About Real Sports Since I Was A Kid

"Why I Haven't Cared About Real Sports Since I Was A Kid"
a therapy session with Jake Kilroy
by Jake Kilroy

AN EXCERPT:
Chapter 5:
Overexcited Baseball Fans That Get In My Face For Not Appreciating America's Pastime

Ok, I'm sorry I don't care about statistics outside of school. Or even in school. What's his ERA? What is an ERA? All I know is that it's some capital letters that when put together means an extended amount of time signifying some kind of plateau in between two changes in culture and/or science.

Oh, good, you stand to hold yourself invested in and devoted to a group of local multimillionaires that play the same sport you did as a kid. Alex Rodriguez has never publicly written or painted anything. He's never recorded a song. He's not an artist. He has no creativity. He was just paid $252 million to play baseball for ten years.

I'm not worshipping that. Sure, I'll continue to gamble on these players (and attempt to fix the games) but I won't hold them in high esteem. Men who know everything about sports are like aliens that know everything their soil. Did that make sense? I don't care. Chapter over. Whatever. I'm only good at apathy, I guess.

Ok, if apathy was a sport, I'd be Willie Goddamn Mays.

But then that would make me good. And you know what? I'd beat your asses. Ok, now I suppose it's empathy. Because I care about beating you. You'll probably cry.

Ugh. I remember one time that me and Tommy Watson got into a fist fight in the outfield during some Little League practice. That guy was such an asshole. And now he's probably some big baseball star and you totally love him. Man, you'd lick his goddamn knees just to taste his scabby sweat.

Seriously, that guy was a total dickhead.

What?

Wait, seriously?

No way. You're making that up.

Oh. Wow.

No, I had no idea.

Well, of course I wouldn't make fun of that.

Ok, nevermind, it turns out that Tommy Watson's just a stupid meth addict these days. Like an asshole.